


The Golden Spiral

by kumiko_sama_chan



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumiko_sama_chan/pseuds/kumiko_sama_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Zoro is an awkward and angry but brilliant mathematician who falls in love with Sanji because he finds the Fibonacci Sequence in his eyebrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> This was a stupid crack prompt idea that somehow evolved into something much bigger. 
> 
> A warning, it takes me a long time to update this fic because the chapters are lengthy and I am a slow writer. My apologies.

"So, did you make any new discoveries during the break?"

Robin was so soft spoken that it was hard to hear her over the roar of her Jeep's engine, especially with the passenger window open, but Zoro heard the question anyway. He always heard her when she spoke, not that he always listened. This time, he chose to ignore her, focusing instead on the patterns the fence posts on the roadside made as they whipped past the windows in a near blur. He could have easily calculated how many inches they were apart based on the seconds between each whoosh as the car engine sounds bounced off of the wood and back at them, but he had been advised against those sorts of things. He didn't really feel like doing it anyway. After so many months spent cooped up inside of a room talking to professionals who used big words and asked even bigger questions that still had no meaning, Zoro just wanted fresh air and silence…and maybe his favorite chalkboard.

Robin, being the perceptive woman that she was, took her friend's nonverbal hint and fell silent, letting the road noises envelope them. It was this very quality that had allowed the woman to become one of Zoro's very few friends. She never pressed or pried, but she could hold her own against him and his intellect. She was one of a very limited number of people that actually took the time to understand him beyond the unusual brilliance that kept others at bay. He cast her a sidelong glance, hoping that she wouldn't notice, but knew for certain that she would. Robin could see everything. Zoro smiled slightly at the thought. He had been distrustful of her when they had first met, but she had expertly broken down those barriers over time.

"What's so funny?" asked Robin, never taking her eyes from the road.

Zoro's smirk fell away. He still didn't feel like talking. "Nothing."

Robin hummed and smiled softly, and Zoro was certain that he could see amusement sparkling behind the tinted lenses of her aviators. He grumbled to himself and shifted lower in his seat. She never laughed at him out loud, but she still always seemed to be in on some joke that he couldn't understand.

"You're tanner than you were," Zoro said after several more minutes, hoping to change the subject before his mind could begin to spiral. A perfect spiral. He should his head and looked back at her. "Where were you all this time?"

"I was guest lecturing at the university in Cairo." You knew that. She didn't say the last part, but the words still hung in the air. Her eyes left the road for a moment as she turned and graced him with a proper smile. "It's nice to be home, though. I missed everyone."

Zoro grunted in affirmation and returned his attention once again to the passing scenery. To be honest, he only half believed her. Robin loved adventure almost as much as she loved knowledge. It was why she had chosen to become an archaeologist so many years ago. Or, so she had once told him. Zoro couldn't remember a single summer since they had met that she hadn't left everything behind to jet off to some distant corner of the world. And every year, she came back with her skin temporarily darker, her hair partially longer, and her eyes permanently wiser. On some level, it felt unfair. Every year she spent the summer months off on a new adventure, while he passed his in the same place experiencing a slightly different version of the same thing. He wanted to see the world, but the world was chaos and the classroom where he taught was worse. It held him back, shackling him so his dreams were just out of reach.

A familiar barn in a familiar field swept past the window and Zoro perked up in his seat. He knew this place. He could never remember how to get there on his own—things moved too much—but he loved to visit when someone helped him find the way. Soon, the gravel of an unpaved parking lot crunched under the Jeep's tires as they pulled into one of the unmarked spaces of a country store.

The only business for miles around, the Sunny Go! Mart was a combination gas station, convenience store, and car repair shop. Its smiling lion-shaped sign had faded under years of weather, but age did little to deter visitors. The place had at least one or two customers inside anytime that it was open, and it was open 24 hours. Zoro could never quite understand when made it so popular, but then he'd never really cared. All that mattered to him was that they sold his favorite booze, the merchandise was arranged logically, and his only other friends in the world were there.

Robin had barely shut off the engine when Zoro was already climbing out of the passenger side. He had to measure his steps as he walked toward the front door—he was excited, but not that excited. However, there were others present who were that excited. No sooner had the bell over the glass doors chimed to announce his entrance than he was knocked backwards by a small force of nature. He and the other flew a few feet before landing in a pile in the pea-gravel at Robin's feet.

"It's nice to see you again, Luffy," said Robin, chuckling into her hand as she watched Zoro try and fail to push the boy off of his chest.

Luffy grinned widely and laughed, still securely seated on top of Zoro, who had stopped struggling. "It's great to see you too, Robin! Did you have a good trip? Did you bring me anything? Is it food? Is it meat?!"

"They wouldn't let her bring meat through customs. Now, dammit—!" Zoro began to thrash beneath his friend once again. "Get off me!"

After a few more minutes of struggle, Luffy shifted his weight just enough that Zoro was able to shove him to the side. As he sat up, grumbling to himself as he did so, he noticed the gas station attendant watching him closely. Zoro rubbed at a sore spot on the back of his head and leveled a no nonsense look at his friend.

"What?"

"Does it hurt?" asked Luffy, his voice serious.

"Of course me head hurts, moron," griped Zoro. "You only slammed it into the fucking ground!"

"No," Luffy corrected. He pointed to Zoro's face. "Your eye. Does it hurt?"

Zoro scowled at the younger man, though the expression was more from remembering than from irritation. He had forgotten that he hadn't seen Luffy all summer. When they had last met back in May, Zoro had still had both eyes. Now, the left one was forever closed, seemingly sealed shut by the long scar that ran over it. Just thinking about it made Zoro feel uneasy, and he quickly banished the memory in order to focus on the situation at hand.

For his part, Luffy sat and waited patiently, albeit with some fidgeting, for Zoro's answer, ever faithful in his friend's honesty. Both of them were straight forward to a fault, a trait that had drawn them to each other even though Luffy's rambunctious behavior and personal space issues sometimes drove Zoro up the wall.

"No," Zoro finally answered after a few moments. "It doesn't hurt."

"That's good," grinned Luffy.

Seemingly satisfied with his friend's answer—Luffy had never been one to push an issue—he climbed to his feet, beating the dust off of his clothing and hands once he'd stood. He paused for a beat and Zoro was certain that he saw some unreadable thought move behind brown eyes, and then it was gone and Luffy was extending a hand downward to help him up.

"I'm glad that you're back," said Luffy as he pulled Zoro to his feet. It had been a long summer. "Come on! We got a new deli section! It's so cool! So much meat!"

Zoro allowed himself a small, lopsided grin as he followed his excited friend inside. He was happy to be back too.

...

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. That was the only way Sanji could describe the scene on campus. Or hell, that was the best word to sum up his entire morning.

After a mostly sleepless night spent haphazardly packing his entire life into three suitcases, several overly used and frankly flimsy boxes, his favorite old backpack, and a laundry hamper, he and his old man had risen at the butt crack of dawn to cram it all into the car and drive the four and some odd hours to campus. For the first forty-five minutes, Zeff had done nothing but berate him for oversleeping, overpacking, and overly procrastinating on getting started on the whole ordeal. But, as time had worn on and the two of them had argued over everything their fatigued minds could conjure, they had fallen into a comfortable silence, each of them secretly enjoying the other's company for what would likely be the last time until Thanksgiving. Several times, Zeff had suggested that Sanji should sleep, and really he should have. He was completely exhausted after the last minute rush to ensure his housing was paid for and his place as school secured. Not to mention all of the shopping, packing, repacking, planning, goodbyes, parties, and then more packing that he had undergone in the last few weeks of summer. But every time his eyelids began to droop, his nerves would jolt him awake again. What if he had forgotten something? What if his roommate turned out to be a jerk? Worse yet, what if the guy didn't shower regularly? That though alone kept Sanji wide awake for a good portion of the car ride. He didn't think he could make it an entire school year living with a slob.

Then they had gotten to campus and gotten miserably lost. Sanji had always prided himself on having a good internal compass, and Zeff's was just as honed, but the campus and the roads leading into it had clearly been laid out with the sole intention of confusion.

First, they had had to try to decipher which one of the six exits labeled "Grand Line University" actually went to the campus and not some office building that was only loosely affiliated with it, or worse yet, the damned Davy Back Stadium, which they had managed to find at least three separate times. The two of them ended up passing the correct exit in their confusion and had to double back, father and son both cursing a blue streak by the time they found the off ramp.

Then they had the decidedly more difficult task of finding Sanji's dorm, which should have been easy, except that none of the buildings were labeled and the campus map that had been mailed to him with his acceptance letter was a joke. Traffic was heavy on campus, the streets packed with more frustrated parents and nervous incoming freshmen. Nobody seemed to know where they were going or that that one street turned into a one way halfway down or that the right lane disappeared at that one intersection. Sanji was fairly certain that Zeff was going to wear a hole in the car horn by the time they reached their destination and that they both would have screamed themselves hoarse. Once they located the East Blue Residence Hall, they were both hot, irritable, and had personal vendettas against a few specific jaywalkers.

When they finally found it, Sanji hadn't wasted any time in climbing out of the blue station wagon and going to find the check-in while Zeff looked for parking. They had originally planned to pull into the "sizeable" loading zone the university had bragged about, but some kid had decided that he needed an entire box truck worth of crap to make it though the school year and was hogging the space. Sanji glared daggers that were completely ignored by the oblivious parents, before slamming the car door and pointing his old man to a rapidly filling lot nearby.

The residence hall staff had set up the check-in tables on the lawn outside the front doors, each one manned by two upperclassmen, who were handing out packets to incoming students. Sanji began to make a beeline for the only one of the four tables being operated by a lovely lady until he noticed that they were labeled alphabetically. Hanging his head in defeat—there really was no winning for him today—Sanji moved to stand in line at the first table. He huffed under his breath as he watched the dark-haired, freckled student checking the freshmen in. At the very least, he supposed, there were cute girls in his line, like the redhead in front of him.

Short orangey hair hung in an angular cut just below her jaw line, no doubt framing a beautiful face, which he couldn't quite see. She was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top and cut-off shorts; the former showing off a rather interesting tattoo on her left shoulder and the latter highlighting gorgeous legs that really went up to there. She was tapping her sandaled feet impatiently on the grass, her hands placed on her hips. The girl looked as frustrated as he felt and Sanji saw an opening to introduce himself. Unfortunately, no sooner had he opened his mouth than some jerk beat him to the punch.

"Hey! Looking good, carrot top!"

Sanji, along with just about every other person in all four lines, whipped his head around to look at the speaker. The asshole was hanging out of the passenger winder of a beat up white car, his stupid pink hair hanging in his face as he leered at the red haired freshman. The jerk lewdly licked his lips and grinned, prompting the girl to turn and level a frankly terrifying glare at him.

"You wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?" continued the moron, unperturbed. "I can show you a good time!"

Much to Sanji's surprise, the girl beside him didn't recoil from the solicitation. Instead, she smile sweetly, her intelligent hazel eyes shining with some sort of scheme.

"I would," she said, "but…" She cutely pouted out her bottom lip and hooked her arm around Sanji's in a way that nearly made his knees buckle. "…my boyfriend here wouldn't like it. He would probably beat you up."

The idiot turned a sullen glare on Sanji, which the blond reciprocated. He would play his part. Anything to defend a lady's honor. The upperclassman's frown turned back into a lecherous grin as he silently appraised Sanji's lanky physique.

"C'mon, blondie," he called, "you know you can't take me!" He laughed. "I'd snap your skinny ass like a twig!"

Sanji growled low in his throat and felt the girl's grip around his arm tighten; whether out of fear or to hold him back, though, he didn't know or care at the moment.

"Look, why don't I save you a lot of pain," continued the pink-haired asshole, his grin widening. "Why don't you just let me borrow your cute little redhead for a bit? I promise I won't wear her out so much that you can't still break in those shitty dorm mattresses!"

Sanji bore his teeth in a fully blown snarl as the other guy laughed at his own crude suggestion. This time, he could actually feel the red-haired girl holding him back as he began to advance on the idling car. It felt like every single pair of eyes on the lawn was on him as Sanji shook with rage. No one, no one, talked to or about a lady that way. Screw first impressions and explicit "no fighting" rules; he was going to kick the smug bastard's face in.

"Oi, Fullbody!" called the freckled-faced upperclassman at the check-in table, his voice breaking the short-lived tense silence with ease. "Don't you have a class you need to be preparing to fail?! Get a move on and quit harassing the freshmen!"

The asshole—Fullbody—glared at his classmate and threw him the finger before turning his attention back to Sanji. He looked like he was about to say something more when the freckled student stood and cast a threatening glare in his direction. Fullbody grimaced and sat back in his seat as the driver gunned the engine. As the wheels screeched against the pavement, he stuck his head back out of the window a final time.

"Don't think I'm done with you yet, blondie!" Fullbody yelled, flipping him off for good measure. "You won't always have your mom here looking out for you!"

"I can take care of myself just fine, asshole!" yelled Sanji, breaking free of the girl's grip as the car began to speed away. "Name the place and time! I'll kick your shitty pink ass!"

Fullbody only continued to flip him the bird, holding the obscene hand gesture out the window as the driver clumsily merged with traffic and disappeared around the block.

"Well, that didn't quite go as I expected," huffed the redhead, crossing her arms as she watched the car drive away. She shrugged. "Oh well. Hey, thanks anyway."

Sanji barely suppressed a swoon. She was even cuter from the front. "Anything for a lovely lady!"

"I'll have to keep that in mind," she said with a sly grin. She extended a delicate hand. "I'm Nami."

"Sanji, at your service," Sanji gushed in response, trying his best to sound suave and sophisticated as he bent to kiss Nami's knuckles.

Nami giggled cutely. "You're alright. I think I'll let you stick around awhile."

Sanji had to swallow a very unmanly squeal at her last comment, opting instead to stand beside his angelic new friend. Soon, the lines began to move smoothly again and Sanji's earlier confrontation with Fullbody was all but forgotten. He and Nami talked as they waited. She told him that she was from Florida and that she had come north to Grand Line University to study meteorology. Nami was quick to point out that she didn't want to be a weather girl. Rather, she was more interested in studying tropical storms. Apparently, Grand Line's weather science program was one of the best in the country, though the curriculum had a reputation for being quite rigorous and its professors unpredictable. For his part, Sanji explained that he was majoring in culinary arts, that his old man owned a restaurant and the he wanted one of his own. He wasn't sure if the residence hall had any sort of kitchen he could use, but if they did, he'd be happy to cook for her.

Conversation made the time pass quickly and within no time, he was waving Nami off as she went to fetch her things, check-in packet in hand. When she had gone, Sanji turned back to the freckle-faced upperclassman, who was staring up at him with an amused, dopey grin. He was wearing an obnoxiously yellow t-shirt that fit just a tad bit too snuggly with the words "GLU East Blue" emblazoned across the front. There was a sticker clinging to the cotton stretched over his left pectoral, proudly proclaiming in red block letters that "Hello" his name was Ace. He had even gone as far as to draw little flames around his name. Sanji further noted as he approached that the guy probably worked out, as well-muscled and also freckly arms pulled at the sleeves of his shirt. Sanji suddenly felt a little self-conscious about his own slight frame and made a mental note to locate the university gym as soon as possible.

"That was a pretty cool thing you did for your girlfriend, back there," said Ace, smirking up at Sanji from beneath the rim of a bright orange cowboy hat. Honestly, did this guy even own a mirror?

"Oh, um…" Sanji rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "…she's not my girlfriend."

"No?" Ace raised his eyebrows. "Friend, then?"

Sanji shrugged. "We are now, I guess."

Ace laughed, his smirk widening into a bright smile. "I like you, dude! I think we'll get along just fine!"

Sanji allowed himself half a smile and a nervous laugh. Ace seemed alright, even if his taste in clothing was a little off.

"So, your name?" asked the upperclassman, his tone still carrying the ring of laughter as he pen hovered over the clipboard of alphabetized student names.

"Sanji…Black," said Sanji, blushing slightly at how uncool he had just sounded.

Ace didn't seem to notice his embarrassment, though, as he searched through the list, muttering Sanji's last name under his breath as he went. When he'd found it, he checked off the "arrived" box and then turned to dig through a plastic bin full of manila envelopes.

"Alriiiiiiiiiight. Looks like you're on my floor, bro," said Ace as he pulled the fully stuffed packet from the box and read the information written on the front. He reached inside and fished out a key and "Grand Line U" lanyard, handing them to Sanji as he spoke. "You're on the eighth floor, or the Penthouse, as I like to call it. Room 801. Oh, corner room, that's lucky. Those are a bit bigger. Here's your key. Don't lose it. It's a $100 fee to replace it. You'll use your student ID to get into the building, but you need your key for access to anything beyond the lobby. We'll have a floor meeting at seven o-clock on Sunday night, so don't be late or you'll be really embarrassed. It'll probably be by the elevators, but I'll keep you posted. There are carts around back on the loading docks that you can use to move in. Careful though, because they're hell to steer. Like I said, I'm your Residence Advisor, or RA. My name is—" He pointed to his name tag. "—Ace. If you need anything or have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be around all weekend. Did you get all that?"

Sanji blinked dumbly at the older student for a couple seconds as the barrage of information settled in. With slightly trembling fingers, he attached the lanyard to his belt loop and tucked the key into the front pocket of his shorts. By the time he took the packet from Ace, his hands had steadied significantly and he gave him his best smile.

"Any questions?" asked Ace as he handed over the envelope.

"Um, about the student ID…"

"Oh, yeah!" Ace thumped his fist into his palm. "That's right. Your ID is included in there. The school used the picture you sent. If you lose that one, you get one free do-over and then every one after that costs $35."

Sanji paled a few shades. He didn't remember sending the school any pictures, which meant that Zeff had. He wanted to facepalm. He could only imagine what kind of atrocity his old man had sent along.

"Anything else?" asked Ace with a friendly smile.

"N—" Sanji had to clear his throat as his voice cracked, visions of his likely horrible student ID dancing in front of his eyes. "No."

"Okay, then," said the RA, subtly shooing Sanji away. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah." Sanji gave him a smile that was shaky at best before turning and leaving to find a luggage cart and then Zeff.

When he finally made it back to the car, his old man was leaning against the hatch, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited. The metal of his prosthetic on the other leg glinted dully from under his shorts, drawing the attention of just about every single passerby. Sanji could hear one group of girls break into excited hushed chatter as he pushed the luggage cart toward the station wagon, his cheeks burning with mixed embarrassment and frustration. Zeff could be infuriating, but he didn't like the idea of anyone making fun of the geezer.

"Took you long enough, Eggplant," Zeff called gruffly, uncrossing his arms to open the trunk as Sanji approached. "I hope you weren't spending all that time flirting."

Sanji glowered at the older man, stressing as much over being called by a childhood nickname as he was about what his mystery ID would look like. "Just unload the car, you shitty old bastard. It's only going to keep getting later."

"You don't have to tell me." Zeff shoved a box into Sanji's waiting hands. "I'm the one who's been waiting here all day."

They continued to grumble and curse at each other until the entirety of Sanji's life was unloaded from the back of the wagon. Sanji felt a lump rise in his throat as he took in the solitary luggage cart. Was there really so little to him?

Zeff clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder, snapping Sanji out of his depressing thoughts. "Okay, lead the way."

"What, am I supposed to move all of this myself while you watch?" griped Sanji as he watched Zeff lock the car. "You're getting useless in your old age."

"Tch, quiet you," Zeff sniped back, not missing a beat. He shouldered Sanji's fully laden backpack, as if that made up for his lack of labor. "Show a little respect for your esteemed elders, you shitty brat! I didn't raise your skinny ass to be so ungrateful! You're lucky I didn't kick you out years ago!"

"As if!" Sanji bit back. "That shit hole you call a restaurant would have gone under if I hadn't kept those so-called cooks in line! Talentless hacks and ex-convicts, every last one of them!"

Their bickering grew in volume as they neared the dorm, drawing confused and concerned stares from several other students and parents. By the time they reached the elevator lobby on the eighth floor, Sanji had completely forgotten his earlier melancholy, too focused on besting his old man in their argument to care. Their raised voices echoed off of the cinderblock walls of the hallway as they sought Sanji's room at the end. The argument came to a grinding halt, however, when they found the door open and someone already unpacking inside.

Sanji cleared his throat as he stepped over the low threshold, leaving Zeff to stand guard over his things in the hall. His new roommate visibly startled at the noise and whirled to face the intruders, his eyes wide.

Sanji's first, second, and third impression of the kid was that, wow, he had a really long nose. The teen looked like he was awkward on a good day and socially crippled on a bad one. He was a bit shorter than Sanji and way skinnier. Unruly black curls fell around his face and full lips parted in a startled "oh" as the kid seemed to search for the right words to say.

"You must be Usopp," Sanji finally said, breaking the silence. He took a cautious step forward and extended a hand. "I'm Sanji. We emailed, remember?"

"R-Right." Usopp took Sanji's offered hand and Sanji noted with some mild discomfort that Usopp's palm was sweating. "Sorry, I went ahead and picked a bed. I hope you don't mind taking the one on the left."

Sanji shrugged and suppressed the urge to wipe the moisture from his hand as soon as Usopp let it go.

"W-Well, that's good, because I wasn't going to give it up anyway. I've got my own fan club, you know, and they…they…"

Usopp's false bravado stuttered and tapered off when Zeff limped into the room and gave him a stern look. "Okay, tough guy. Why don't you and your legions of followers help my boy unload all of his crap?" His stern glare hardened when both boys only gaped at him. "Well?! Snap to it! We don't have all day!"

Usopp let out a frightened squeak and rushed to grab boxes from the cart followed closely by Sanji, who shot his old man a venomous glare as he stalked past. Just what he needed: a terrified roommate. He would be lucky if Usopp wanted to speak to him at all after this.

Zeff watched from the side, his arms crossed over his chest as if Sanji and Usopp were a couple of delinquent employees at the restaurant. Sanji's face was burning with embarrassment by the time they had finished and he was thankful when Zeff volunteered to return the empty cart to its home. Several other students which had been loitering in the hall scattered as the chef neared them. Sanji watched him go from the door, not relaxing until he heard the elevators ping and the doors slide open and closed.

"Sorry about that," he said, turning to find Usopp setting up the small television underneath Sanji's lofted bed.

"It's okay."

There was awkward silence for a moment while the longnosed teen continued to fiddle with the multitude of wires required to set up the DVD player, university-provided cable, and two different gaming systems. Usopp seemed to be using all of his concentration, so Sanji merely shrugged and began to assemble their seating area under his roommate's bed. Usopp had offered to supply the chairs, mini-fridge, and television. Though Sanji had been ready to spend a fairly sizeable chunk of his graduation money on dorm room amenities, he was thankful that his roommate-to-be had offered. The other boy had explained in one of his emails that his girlfriend had given them all to him already. It was a huge help, as Sanji hadn't been entirely sure how he would afford any of the necessary appliances along with all of his textbooks. The only thing that Usopp had asked him to bring was a microwave, which had been an adventure in and of itself since Zeff had forbade such an abomination in his kitchen when Sanji was growing up.

"So, that's your dad, huh?" Usopp asked, breaking the weird quiet between them.

"He's my step-dad, yeah," answered Sanji from behind the mini-fridge.

"Really? I thought you two looked related."

Sanji poked his head out from behind the appliance long enough to shoot his roommate a dark glare. He did not look anything like that mustachioed old geezer.

"N-Nevermind. I must have been seeing things."

Satisfied, Sanji ducked down to resume his search for an outlet.

"Have you gotten your class schedule, yet?" continued Usopp, rather tactfully changing the subject. They had already told each other about their majors in their sporadic emails. Usopp was at GLU to study illustration and creative writing.

"Yeah, at orientation back in July. You?"

"Same."

Silence again. Sanji finally found the outlet and plugged in the refrigerator, a satisfied grin splitting his face when he heard it buzz to life.

"So…" Sanji patted non-existent dust from his hands as he stood. "…how's it look?"

Usopp frowned skeptically at him. "The fridge? Looks fine to me."

"No, your schedule."

"Oh." Usopp's frown deepened for a moment and then he shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. Lots of foundations courses. My advisor said that I probably wouldn't get to take any actual classes for my major until next semester. You?"

"Same. Well, no…I did get into Nutrition 101, but—" Sanji scowled. "—I have algebra first thing on Monday mornings." He groaned. "Ugh, I hate math."

"Is it the one with lecture in that huge hall in the Mihawk building that they showed on the tour?"

Sanji nodded sullenly.

"I'm in the same class!" Usopp grinned. "I'm pretty good at it. Um, math, that is…I can help you, if you like."

"Yeah?" Sanji returned his roommate's smile, as thankful that some of the awkwardness was passing as he was for the offered help. "That'd be great. Thanks."

"I see you two are getting along." Zeff loomed large in the doorway, banishing the relaxed atmosphere, his mustache twitching with a suppressed smile.

Sanji whirled on his step-father, nearly hitting his head on the underside of Usopp's bed in the process. "How long have you been eavesdropping, old man?!"

"Long enough," responded Zeff, his eyes glinting with something mysterious that made Sanji slightly uncomfortable. "You all set, Eggplant?"

"Don't call me that!" Sanji's blush returned with full force and he balled his hands into fists at his sides when Zeff grinned mischievously and he heard Usopp snicker.

"Are you?"

"Yes," Sanji mumbled, now beet red.

"Walk your old man to his car then."

Sanji froze, a lump rising in his throat for the second time that day. Zeff was leaving already? Once again, he quickly swallowed it. With a quick promise to Usopp that he would be back in a few minutes, Sanji grabbed his new—and still unseen—student ID out of his check-in packet and led the way into the hall.

Once they'd reached the elevator, Sanji finally ventured a peek at his ID. The residence hall had all the doors propped open for move in, so he hadn't needed it. Now, he wished that he never would. Just as he had predicted, it was the worst, most embarrassing picture possible. Sanji didn't know what his old man had been thinking or if he had simply chosen the photo with his eyes closed. The picture wasn't even recent. It was his school photo from his junior year of high school. The photographer had fussed with his hair at the last minute, flattening it miserably. To make matters worse, he had been struggling with acne that year and struggling even more with the concept of fashion.

"What's the matter?" asked Zeff, standing calmly beside him as if the entire world weren't ending. "You're hyperventilating."

"This picture?" Sanji whined, waving the ID in his step-father's face. "Seriously?"

Zeff caught his hand mid-wave, taking the card and studying it. "I don't see what's so bad about it. It's obviously you."

"You couldn't have used any other picture?" Sanji buried his face in his hands. He couldn't believe his luck.

"I couldn't find any others," corrected Zeff. "When I looked, they were all missing from the file."

Sanji groaned into his hands. That was right. He'd snuck into Zeff's office at the end of the school year and taken all of his old photos, intent upon hiding them so they couldn't be used to embarrass him during graduation festivities. Sanji had long ago decided that he was woefully unphotogenic, something that the other cooks never let him live down.

"When the school asked for a picture," continued Zeff, unfazed by Sanji's pained noises, "I had to use the one in my wallet."

"Your WHAT?!"

Zeff wordlessly pulled his wallet from his pocket, innocently flipping it open to reveal an exact replica of the atrocity that currently decorated Sanji's school ID. Sanji screeched in horror and made to grab both from the elder chef, intent upon destroying any evidence that the horrific photo had ever existed. A scuffle ensued in the cramped space as Zeff valiantly fended off his son's efforts. After much shuffling, swearing, and a few thrown elbows, Sanji almost had the ID in his hand when the elevator pinged and the doors opened.

"Are we interrupting something?" asked Nami sweetly as she took in the scene before her.

Father and son were frozen mid-struggle with Sanji reaching for his ID with one hand and the other shoved in his old man's face. Zeff had his leg raised, kneeing Sanji in the chest as he held the offending plastic aloft. All of the blood in Sanji's body rushed to his cheeks and he quickly snatched the ID from Zeff's hand while he was distracted.

"N-Not at all, ladies," Sanji simpered as smoothly as possible. He cleared his throat before his voice could crack. "Come on in."

He did his best to get his embarrassed blush under control as he and Zeff moved to the side to make room for Nami and another equally stunning girl. She looked kind of exotic and Sanji couldn't help but to wonder if she was an international student. Her skin was naturally tan and she had henna decorating her hands. However, she had dyed her hair a shade of cotton candy-like light blue that kept her nationality a mystery. She smiled shyly at him as she followed Nami into the elevator, moving to stand on the far side of the redhead.

"Is this the boy you were telling me about?" asked the blue-haired girl, looking between Sanji and Nami with open curiosity. Sanji felt his blush returning. Nami had been talking about him?

"Yeah," grinned Nami. "Vivi, this is Sanji. Sanji, this is Vivi, my roommate."

Sanji saw hearts. These two beautiful maidens were roommates? How could the stars have aligned so perfectly? He quickly recovered before he could melt into a lovesick puddle on the elevator floor, kissing the lovely Vivi's knuckles in the same way he had Nami's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

Vivi giggled, a cute blush lending a pink tint to her cheeks.

"You didn't tell me this was a co-ed dorm," commented Zeff, effectively ruining the moment.

Sanji's blush left his cheeks, along with all of the rest of the blood in his face. He could feel Zeff's piercing blue gaze on the back of his head, sizing him up like a predator would prey. Sanji had a reputation for getting woefully distracted around the fairer sex. He could already hear his old man's tirade about wasted money playing in his ears.

"Didn't I?" he asked, forcing a stiff smile and turning toward his irritated step-father.

Zeff regarded him quietly for a painful minute before seeming to come to a decision about his son's punishment. He turned to the two girls, who had been watching their every move.

"You two will make sure my Baby Eggplant keeps up with his studies, won't you?" Zeff requested as innocently as if he weren't ruining his son's life. Sanji wished he could fall through the floor. "You see, he gets stressed when he falls behind and he gets nightmares when he's stressed. And, well, when he was younger, sometimes his nightmares would make him wet the—"

"OKAY, WE'RE LEAVING NOW." Sanji grabbed his horrible excuse for a father and dragged him through the just opening elevator doors and into the main lobby. He could hear the depraved old man snickering behind him as he practically ran from the building, leaving Nami and Vivi to stand amused and bewildered in the elevator.

"Seriously?" growled Sanji, panting and shaking by the time they'd reached the car. He angrily ran his hands through his hair. "SERIOUSLY?!"

"Those girls seemed nice," remarked Zeff offhandedly just as his son began to pace beside the station wagon.

Sanji shot his old man a glare that went ignored as he busied himself with unlocking the car. His frustration and embarrassment began to ebb as he watched Zeff fiddle with his keys. Even only hours ago, it had felt like this moment would never come, but now here it was and neither father nor son seemed eager to initiate. Deep down, Sanji was nervous to be on his own for the first time. He had always been strong-willed and independent, sure—Zeff had never let him forget it—but they had always been there for each other, especially after his mother died. They were all the other had, except for the restaurant. Would Zeff remember to eat on a regular basis without him there to remind him, or get enough sleep when he couldn't berate him into doing so? Zeff was too stubborn to just keel over and die, but he like to push his health.

"Well, I'd best be going," Zeff broke the silence. "If I hit the road now, I might get back in time to get control over the last half of the dinner rush."

Sanji stared hard at the pavement between his feet before setting his jaw determinedly and raising his chin to meet the gaze of the only father he'd ever known.

"You'll do fine, Eggplant," continued his old man as if he were trying to force out every thought that he hadn't voiced before. "There isn't a single student here that can match what you have."

"Aw," teased Sanji with a wobbly smirk, "you complimenting me, shitty old geezer?"

"No," came the growled reply. "I was referring to your foul mouth and fouler attitude."

Sanji's face split with a cocksure grin. "Uh huh. Sure."

"Listen, brat," pressed Zeff, banishing Sanji's smile.

"Yes?"

"Just…" Did the old fart's voice just shake? Zeff cleared his throat. "…don't let yourself catch cold."

"I'll be fine, old man. I can handle myself."

Zeff gave him a skeptical look and once again, Sanji as if he was being sized up. Then he extended his hand to his son. "Okay, then."

Sanji steeled himself and shook Zeff's hand, feeling a chill run through him despite the heat of the afternoon. This all felt so terrifying and final. "Thanks…for everything."

"Don't do anything too stupid, Eggplant."

Then Zeff let go, turning and climbing into his car. Sanji watched from the curb as the blue station wagon drove away, the memory of his step-father's touch still lingering on his hand. He shoved them into his pockets, gripping his student ID and keys tightly. He would have to see about getting a new card printed after the weekend. Until then, he and Usopp still needed to buy food, he needed his textbooks, and he had planned to explore campus to find the buildings where he had his classes. But, for now, all Sanji could think about was how heavily the chaos of that morning was weighing on his shoulders and how badly he wanted a nap.

...

When he finally got to his office, Zoro had hoped to find it untouched. Unfortunately, it wasn't. He should have known better. Whenever he was gone for the summer months, someone would let themselves in to "clean". But every fall it still took him by surprise, it still irritated him, and it put him in a foul mood for the start of the school year. No matter how good the other staff members' intentions were, he had his office arranged the way he did for a reason. Their attempts to "organize", as they called it, only plunged his workspace into disorder. How was he supposed to get any work done when everything was in the wrong place and he couldn't find anything? His office was one of the few places where he didn't get lost; he wanted to keep it that way.

Grumbling under his breath about nosy, good-for-nothing morons, he dropped his fully laden "Sunny Go!" bag on his too clean desk and fished out a bottle of sake that Luffy had given him as a welcoming home present. Zoro looked disdainfully around the small space as he broke the seal and took a long drink of the strong alcohol. He had hoped to record some of the thoughts he had had over his mostly unproductive summer break, but instead he was going to have to reorganize.

"I heard you were back."

Zoro turned to the door and scowled at the pink-haired girl that was, as usual, letting herself inside uninvited. "I am. Go away."

Perona pouted. "Why didn't you come and say 'hi'? It's been so dull here."

"Because I was hoping for some quiet," growled Zoro, bending to search through his desk drawers for his pens and paper. "Go away."

But, true to form, the graduate student didn't leave, instead stepping further inside and taking a seat on the worn leather sofa by the door. "So, how was it?"

Zoro heaved a frustrated sigh when the search through his desk yielded no results, moving on to his file cabinet by the window. "You still living in that shitty dorm?"

"Of course," replied Perona, taking the change of subject in stride. She had been Zoro's student since the freshman year of her undergraduate studies and had been an RA at the East Blue Residence Hall since her sophomore year. Now, at the beginning of the second year of her graduate studies, almost nothing had changed. She even still dressed in the same obnoxious gothic Lolita style. Perona leaned forward, a devious smile curling her purple-painted lips as she prepared to regale him with the latest gossip. "There was almost a fight at check-in yesterday morning."

Zoro remained silent. Perona could carry on a conversation with herself if she wanted to. All she really needed was a warm body in the room so she didn't look like a crazy person talking to herself.

"Fullbody and some freshman boy up on Ace's floor," she continued, as predicted. Really, her mannerisms were as predictable as any equation. "Fullbody was being his normal douchy self. The frosh looked ready to kill him."

Zoro gave a derisive snort. Finally finding what he had been looking for, he returned to his desk and rewarded himself with another gulp of sake.

"He's in your class again this year, you know," said Perona with a sigh. "I checked the roster. Why don't you just let him pass the class already? I'm so sick of grading his tests!"

"Because he hasn't earned it," Zoro bit back. This would be the third year that he had Fullbody in his introductory math course. The moron was lazy as hell, but he was connected to some higher up in the university. He had been able to coast by in his other classes on his political powers, but not in Zoro's. The young professor didn't care about politics. All that mattered to him was the purity and integrity of his craft. He wasn't about to give a passing grade to a student that hadn't bothered to learn the material.

Perona whined. "Aw, come on! A 'D'. That's all you have to give him! A few more measly points and then he can move on and be Daz's problem."

"If he earns it, I'll pass him." Zoro sighed. He was tired of the argument already and the school year hadn't even technically started. If this year was anything like the ones in the past, then he would have the same discussion with Perona several more times.

"Can't you at least give him to Johnny or Yosaku?" pressed the grad student. "It's not like he uses office hours anyway. So, why does it matter who grades his papers?"

"Because they're too scared of him or his parents or whoever. They'd be too easy on him."

Perona huffed, which Zoro noted but ignored, intent upon locating his favorite reference books. He had left them on his desk at the end of the last school year. That was where they always lived. He liked to keep them close at hand for when he got stuck in his research. Each of the mathematicians that had written them had their own distinct voice that resonated within the books' yellowed pages and never failed to help guide him. After several minutes of searching with no luck, Zoro could feel himself getting frustrated and a little panicked. He roved wordlessly from one corner of the room to another, pulling books and papers from drawers and shelves, letting them litter the floor as he looked.

"Your books are on the bookshelf with the other math texts," Perona said, pointing to a shelf that he hadn't yet reached. She grumbled under her breath when Zoro turned and looked in the opposite direction. Standing, she went to the shelf and pulled down the three books he had been searching for, holding them out to her faculty mentor. "Here. Honestly, I don't know what you would do without me."

"Thanks."

Zoro took the books from her grasp, affectionately running his hands over the white and gold cover of the top book. He had missed Wado's wisdom during his time away. He had left in such a hurry last spring that he hadn't gotten to bring his books. That seemed to happen every year.

Reorganization momentarily forgotten, he sat in the high backed swivel chair behind his desk and set the other two books to the side. Zoro ran his thumb up the embossed spine of his oldest and most trusted text on mathematical theory, tracing Wado Ichimonji's name emblazoned in vibrant gold on the white leather. Perona took the professor's unspoken cue and turned to leave. Rereading Wado's work was Zoro's favorite way to center himself in preparation for the new school year. There was not getting his attention now.

"Don't forget," she said, pausing as she was halfway out the door. "You have lecture at 9:30 tomorrow morning, so don't oversleep. It's so embarrassing when you're late on the first day."

Zoro grunted and absently waved her off, Wado already open in his lap. He barely heard the click of the latch as Perona shut the door behind her, the familiarity of the ancient mathematician's words and number enveloping him like a blanket.

...

Sanji tapped the end of his pencil against his notebook, the heel of his right foot matching the impatient uptempo rhythm. The habitual fidgeting had driven many of his classmates crazy in high school, but here no one seemed to notice or care. Probably because the lecture hall was so huge that the rapid movement couldn't bother anyone. After all, his tour guide at the summer orientation had said that the hall had been built to hold up to eight hundred students; and Sanji believed him. It was built like a massive amphitheater with entrances at the top and bottom corners that led out into the second floor and basement level, respectively. Rows upon rows of connected desks and chairs rose up one side in such a way that the feet of the students on one level were nearly even with the shoulders of those the next row down. Stairs ran down the sides of the room, as well as down the center, splitting the otherwise unbroken lines of desks in half. Bleary-eyed students were busy filing into the massive classroom, taking their seats and sleeping or chatting amongst themselves.

At the very bottom of the hall were two desks. One small one stood in the corner and housed a computer that controlled the projector in the ceiling. Currently, there was a cute girl with pink hair and punk clothing standing behind it. She was concentrating on something on the hidden computer monitor, and when Sanji looked up, he could see a desktop menu projected onto the movie theater style screen, the mouse moving to open files containing the syllabus, curriculum, and other documents.

A second larger desk was located in the center of the stage-like space. It had what looked to be an overhead projector on it, which Sanji assumed must also work with the one on the ceiling. There was a couple of upperclassman standing on either side of it, each of them with a sizeable stack of papers in hand. He figured that all three of them must be teaching aids, though there was no professor in sight.

He sighed to himself and gave the end of his pencil a break, deciding instead to absentmindedly doodle in the top corner of his notebook page. His textbook, a weighty tome written by some dead guy named Yubashiri, sat in his open backpack at his feet. Sanji had brought it along for the first day, just in case, but really hoped that it wouldn't have to become a habit. The stupid thing was heavy and the one hour break that he had between this class and the next wouldn't be enough to go back to his dorm. At least, not if he didn't want to have to run.

A small ocean of crudely drawn fish was taking shape at the top of his page when he finally spotted Usopp. The longnose stood at the bottom of the lecture hall, panting as if he had just sprinted there. He paused by the corner desk and seemed to be apologizing to the pink-haired aid, who merely shrugged and indicated that he should find a seat in the nearly full room. Sanji half rose from his chair and waved exaggeratedly at his roommate until Usopp finally spotted him and began to climb the steps.

"Aw, blondie's got himself a boyfriend," teased a familiar voice from beside him. Sanji spun in his chair to glare at Fullbody, who stood a few seats away, doing an amazing job of blocking the center aisle. Behind him, a couple of other students snickered at their friend's taunt. "You know, I didn't take you for a queer, but up close, I can see it now."

Sanji held his pencil with a white knuckled grip, his entire body humming with tension as he suppressed the urge to jump the bastard. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Usopp paused mid-step a little ways down, looking like he was ready to bolt at any minute.

"So, tell me, blondie," Fullbody continued, drawing the attention of more and more surrounding students. "Are you the dude or the chick? No, wait. Don't tell me…" He glanced at Usopp and then back at Sanji and grinned. "…he fucks you with that nose, doesn't he?"

Something snapped and Sanji lost his temper, roaring something akin to "YOU SHITTY BASTARD" as he leapt at the upperclassman, intent upon shutting him up once and for all. Fullbody gave him a smug look, completely unaware of the pain that was coming, and raised his fists for what he must have thought would be an easy fight. In the last remaining feet, the world around him seemed to come to a standstill as Sanji raised his leg to deliver a bone bruising kick. He was only inches away from connecting when he felt arms hook under his, hauling him backwards mid-attack.

"LET GO OF ME!" yelled Sanji, red-faced with rage as he squirmed in the grip of one of the male TAs he had seen at the front of the room earlier. The guy struggled to contain him and across the aisle, Sanji could see the other aid trying his best to hold onto Fullbody. "I SAID, 'LET GO'! I'M GOING TO KICK HIS SHITTY PINK ASS!"

"YEAH?!" Fullbody challenged. "I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!"

Sanji snarled and lunged at the upperclassman, popping a couple of buttons on his shirt as he stretched it against the aid's hold on him. "OH, I'LL DO MORE THAN TRY! I'M GOING TO REARRANGE YOUR UGLY—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH."

The deep, booming voice reverberated around the room, seeming to vibrate Sanji's bones and stopping him cold in his attempted attack. The owner of the voice stood just inside one of the doors at the bottom of the classroom, his hand still gripping the knob. He had a small stack of books and papers under his other arm, and even from far away, Sanji could see them threatening to fall to the floor. The man projected an aura of authority that radiated up the steps, making the hair on the back of Sanji's neck stand on end. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji saw Fullbody stop struggling against the teaching assistant's grasp.

Was this the professor? But he was too young. The guy didn't look to be more than a few years older than Sanji; there was no way that he could be a professor already, right? Worse yet, he didn't even look like a professor. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled as if he had slept in them and he was wearing flip flops instead of proper shoes. That coupled with the green hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in days and a rather violent scar over his left eye, and the man looked more like some punk homeless streetfighter cliché from an MTV movie than an educator.

"Who started this?" he asked, his voice still easily carrying up to them even though he wasn't yelling.

Sanji found himself tongue-tied, still stunned by the delinquent turned teacher before him, so Fullbody answered for them.

"Professor Roronoa, I don't know what happened. I was just trying to find a seat when this psycho jumped me out of nowhere and…"

His lie died out as Professor Roronoa's glare intensified, which was lucky for Fullbody, because it was only the power of that gaze that kept Sanji from boiling over again.

"Fullbody, I want you to go and wait for me in my office," commanded the professor, his voice stern.

"But your office is locked," the pink-haired girl reminded him, causing the professor's glare to momentarily break.

Professor Roronoa glanced at her and then rolled his eye. "Fine then." He looked back up the stairs at his fighting students. "Fullbody, go and sit outside my office. I expect to find you there after class."

Sanji half expected the pink-haired moron to protest, but Fullbody didn't seem terribly eager to argue. He merely nodded sullenly and retreated from the room, his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

"And you," the professor focused his fearsome look on Sanji, who had finally wriggled free of the TA's grasp. "What's your name?"

Sanji returned his professor's stare, hoping against hope that his voice wouldn't shake too much when he spoke. "Sanji." Nailed it.

"Sanji." He frowned as he tested out the name. "I expect to see you this afternoon."

Then Professor Roronoa turned away, placing his precariously stacked books and papers on the table beside the overhead. Sanji moved to protest, only to be stopped by a warning squeeze on his shoulder and a silent head shake by the TA that had held him back before. The green-haired professor had already started his lecture, the altercation between his students seemingly forgotten, when Sanji and Usopp found their seats.

"Oh man, that was scary," whispered Usopp as the teaching assistants began to hand out copies of the syllabus.

Sanji only scowled in response, the angry red haze over his mind still lingering.

"I thought you were going to kill him. Or, at least put him in the hospital. What did he say to you, anyway? Do you guys know each other?"

Still silence. Usopp fidgeted nervously beside him.

"Are you gonna be okay to go by yourself? I would go with you, but I have this really rare condition where my heart stops and I bleed to death internally when I'm in small spaces with big, angry, green-haired men. It's weird, I know, but it happens."

Sanji clenched his jaw, feeling the muscles jump from the tension, and glared hard at his syllabus.

"You don't think he's gonna kick you out, do you?" asked Usopp. "Don't you need this class to graduate? I don't think anyone else teaches it. What will you do if he does? Will you have to change majors? Or change schools? Please don't change schools."

The questions were beginning to wear Sanji's patience thin, but he had bigger worries keeping his temper under control. His jabbering roommate was right, he did need this class to graduate. As he stared down at the professor below, the man droning on in some memorized speech about attendance and grades, Sanji couldn't help but to remember how terrifying he had been or the thrill that he got from facing him down. He found Professor Roronoa's office number, Room 120, and circled it several times, the same question looping in his mind:

What was going to happen when he went to that office?

...

The almost-fight in his classroom that morning and his subsequent meeting with Fullbody were far from Zoro's mind that afternoon. After the altercation, his lecture had been the same as every year, the faces of the hundreds of students blending into patterns of colored dots as he talked. By the end, he couldn't even pick out the blond freshman's face, whatever his name was. Many students dropped his class within the first week, so Zoro had fully expected to have his afternoon to himself.

He was about halfway through reacquainting himself with Sandai Kitetsu's Theorems and Equations when he heard the loud, steady knock on his door. Zoro called for whoever it was to come in, his eye never leaving the page as the door opened and someone walked inside.

"Professor Roronoa?"

Zoro raised his eyebrows at his book and absently waved to the speaker, whose voice he recognized as that of the angry freshman.

"It's me, uh, Sanji."

Zoro nodded, still more focused on his book than on his guest. Over the top of the page, he could see Sanji's torso and hips. His back was straight, his feet were spaced shoulder width apart, and his hands were clasped firmly behind his back as he waited for his reprimand. Zoro found himself mildly impressed. This kid was a stark contrast to Fullbody's slouching, sulking figure earlier that day. He still wasn't interesting enough to distract him from Kitetsu, though.

"Look, Professor," continued Sanji, his voice firm in what was probably a rehearsed speech, "I don't know how much of that you saw, but—"

"I don't need your excuse. Just don't do it again."

"—but…what? Who says I was going to make an excuse?"

"Your 'but'." Zoro was already bored with Sanji's likely false indignation and it had only just started. "Fullbody probably deserved it anyway. So, like I said, just don't do it again."

"Wha—That's it?!"

"That's it. You may go now."

With those words, Zoro truly began to lose himself in his book again, letting the words and numbers wash over him, but Sanji didn't leave.

"Are you serious?! That's all?!" Zoro glanced up just enough to see Sanji's hands ball into fists at his sides. "I came all the way here, thinking I was getting kicked out, and you just tell me, 'don't do it again'?" Sanji's volume was rising with his temper, crowding the office. "And then-and then you can't even look me in the eye when you're talking to me?! What are you, antisocial or something?! Or are you just a coward?!"

"I can look you in the eye just—"

Zoro's words fell from his lips as he looked up and finally saw his student. In the lecture hall with the distance between them, he had only seen a skinny kid with a stupid haircut that let his blond hair hang over his left eye. But now, here within the confines of his office, he could see it. The miracle etched onto Sanji's face.

The floor and the chair seemed to fall away beneath him, leaving Zoro reeling as he looked into the natural spiral at the end of his student's eyebrow. There it was. The world, the universe, the cosmos. It was the ultimate pattern of numbers that was everywhere and yet nowhere. The truest and deepest understanding of the true meaning of those numbers had long eluded him, even driven him mad, and here it was occurring naturally on this boy. Zoro's heart raced in his chest, his pulse roaring in his ears as he stared at Sanji with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"Professor?" The blond looked concerned and a little scared.

Zoro just continued to gape at him, a multitude of numbers running through his mind as his insides screamed for him to solve this new equation.

"Professor? Are you okay? You look like you're having a stroke or something."

"You…You…" Zoro licked at his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "You have the universe on your face. Do you know that?"

Sanji furrowed his perfect curled brow in confusion, making Zoro's heart jump. "Excuse me?"

"Those-Those curls in your eyebrows."

The blond's concern vanished, replaced by righteous anger. "Are you making fun of my eyebrows?!"

"No." Zoro got up and made his way around his desk, staring at the spiral on his student's face as if he were seeing the sun for the first time. "No, they're perfect."

He walked slowly toward his student, still not entirely believing what he was seeing. Sanji began to back away from him and Zoro had to fight the temptation to lunge at and grab him.

"They can't be…You can't be real, can you?"

Sanji looked genuinely scared at this point, but Zoro wasn't paying attention. All he could see was that perfect spiral, the shape that had haunted his dreams and plagued his nightmares for his entire life. He reached out a shaking hand, wanting to touch it, to confirm that it was real and not some cruel hallucination.

"I knew the sequence occurred in nature, but never here. Never in this way."

Zoro stepped closer and Sanji backed up again, as if they were walking through a choreographed dance.

"The key to understanding the universe, right here in front of me," Zoro muttered excitedly, by now completely engrossed with the theorems and equations running rampant through his head. But what if someone else found out? What if they tried to steal this discovery from him before he fully understood it? No, he couldn't—he wouldn't—let that happen. Zoro momentarily broke eye contact with the spiral to glance into Sanji's wide blue eyes. "This must be studied. No one else can know."

His student, who was now trembling—whether from fear or anger, Zoro didn't know—reached up and clapped a hand over his forehead, hiding his miraculous eyebrow from view. With slow steps that were significantly wider than before, Sanji backed up toward the door. What little composure Zoro had been projecting broke.

"Where are you going?!" he asked excitedly. "We have to study this!"

"St-Stay…Stay away from me."

"No, don't be afraid. This is so important." Zoro reached out again, intend upon pulling Sanji's hand away from his face. "You can't possibly understand."

Sanji backed up again, looking somewhere between furious and terrified. "Get away. I mean it. Don't touch me."

"But the sequence…"

Zoro was so close, his fingers just barely brushing against the skin on his student's wrist, when Sanji had enough. Suddenly, the professor found a foot planted squarely in the center of his chest, the surprise of the attack barely having a chance to properly register before he was kicked away. The force of the blond's kick sent him stumbling backwards into his desk, scattering books, pencils, and papers as he made impact. Zoro grunted as the hard wooden edge pressed into his lower back and looked up just in time to see Sanji stumble slightly as he recovered from his part of the kick and turn to run from the office. Zoro called out to him one last time, but Sanji, along with the spiral, was gone.

The professor stared at the empty spot where his student had been in a daze, trying to wrap his mind around what he had just seen. He couldn't quite fathom what this all meant or where it would take him, but Zoro did know one thing. This changed everything.


	2. October

A month later, Zoro still couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. The spiral haunted every waking and sleeping moment. He found himself looking for it everywhere, as if the equation would appear in other unexpected places. Zoro knew, of course, of the standard manifestations. He had a small collection of snail shells and even a fossilized nautilus on the shelf in his office. But no matter how hard he looked, nothing compared to the perfect spiral at the end of his student's eyebrow.

Oddly enough, the boy had no idea how special he was and seemed dead set on avoiding the fact. Sanji continued to arrive to class early—so Perona had told him—but he seemed to be an expert at hiding himself. With every passing day, Zoro became more and more motivated to see it in person. He had yet to oversleep on the days he taught Sanji's class and even began showing up early in hopes of catching him. But, try as he might, Zoro could never find his miraculous student in the sea of faces. At least, never when it was convenient. Instead, he would discover Sanji's whereabouts mid-lecture, always seated in a different part of the hall.

Zoro couldn't help the smile that spread across his face every time he found him. Every time, he would tell himself that this would be the day that he talked to Sanji again, that he convinced him of how special he was, even as Sanji sat rigidly in his plastic chair, returning Zoro's intense stare with a glare. But then at the end of every class, Sanji would disappear in the throng of students, there one moment and gone the next. Zoro couldn't quite understand why the blond was avoiding him. Perona had once helpfully told Zoro that he was awkward and way too intense for most people. Was that it? But that was stupid. Surely Sanji knew how special he was. He had to have heard the sincerity in Zoro's voice and seen the hope in his eyes that afternoon back in September. And if he didn't, then he would just have to convince him. There was no other way.

Zoro inhaled deeply, drawing one last breath of the crisp fall air into his lungs before stepping into the Long Ring Long Health Center. He was secretly a little proud. He had made it from his apartment to the campus gym in record time.

Grand Line University was constantly under construction. The campus changed so quickly that Zoro often go lost on his way to anything. But there were a select few destinations that he would always take the time to find, carefully memorizing his route there and never deviating from it until some new construction fencing barred his way. His office in the Mihawk Building was one of those special destinations, as was the Culinary Arts School's Navarone Café, which gave him a faculty discount and had the best food on campus. Other than those, the only other building on campus that he could find consistently and fairly quickly was the Long Ring Long Health Center.

It was a massive building that sat on the edge of campus near the dorms and one of the dining halls. The sprawling complex housed two gyms filled with work out equipment, an indoor track, several basketball courts, an indoor soccer court, roomy locker rooms complete with showers and a sauna, and an expansive Olympic style pool. The building was maze-like in its complexity with winding hallways, several stairways, and at least three large ramps that led to the variety of amenities on the three floors. In all the years and the hundreds of visits he'd made, Zoro had only managed to learn how to get from the front entrance to the locker room to the upstairs weight room and adjoining track. If he ventured anywhere beyond that, he always managed to get turned around and would wander the halls until one of the gym employees spotted him and led him back to a familiar area.

"Good morning, Professor!" chirped the attendant by the door as Zoro swiped his faculty card through the turnstile.

"G'morning, Coby," Zoro mumbled in response, shouldering his gym bag a little higher so he could pass unhindered through the metal bars.

Coby remained cheerful as ever as Zoro walked by. Even if he never let on, Zoro had to admit that the kid was alright. Coby had been in his class the year before. He didn't have a mind for math, but he had an incredible work ethic. The Physical Education major had managed to scrape up a hard-earned B in Zoro's class, that in addition to the rigorous training required for his Marine ROTC courses. Zoro had watched as the awkward and scrawny freshman had grown into a well-built soldier. By the end of the year, Perona had informed him that many of the girls in his class spent more time staring at Coby than paying attention to the lecture, especially on Thursdays when he traded his usual t-shirt, shorts, and sandals for his Marine dress uniform along with every other ROTC student on campus.

"We finally got in that new weight set you've been asking about," Coby continued, smiling brightly. "It's set up at the station by the window."

Zoro perked up at that. He did some of his best thinking while training and as a result had built his muscles beyond what the gym's former weight sets could handle. Perhaps with a real physical challenge, he could clear his head and find a solution to his newest problem.

He returned Coby's smile with a lopsided smirk of his own and waved his thanks as he headed for the locker rooms. Luckily, the locker rooms were mostly deserted at the early hours that he trained, with most students and staff choosing to sleep in. Zoro was able to pick his favorite locker in the corner and managed to make it to the upstairs weight room without meeting anyone else. He found the new weight set right where Coby had said it would be, at the station by the window overlooking the pool.

A few bleary-eyed students trickled into the gym as Zoro loaded on the heaviest weights in the set and began his reps. Just as always, the strenuous exercise helped to clear his mind of the chaos that had clogged it before. Trivial problems fell away, replaced by regulated breathing and the zen-like calm that came from his carefully patterned workout. He had just counted the one hundred forty-second rep of his eighth set of bench presses when a familiar presence shadowed him.

"Good morning, Professor," grinned Ace, leaning his arms across the bar of Zoro's weights as his finished his set. "Long time, no see."

Zoro grunted in response, his muscles only bulging slightly as he benched the extra weight provided by his former student. He could feel sweat slicking his palms as he counted his last few reps and placed the bar in its brackets.

"You're here awfully early, Portgas," he said, sitting up and wiping his face on the green towel he'd brought along. He turned to face Ace, who was still leaning on the weights. "Shouldn't you still be sleeping right now?" _Or clearing out an all-you-can-eat breakfast bar?_

Ace smiled amiably at him, completely unfazed by Zoro's less-than-friendly greeting.

"One of my students is an early riser," Ace replied. He shrugged. "I think he likes the company walking here."

"One of your students…" Zoro muttered, glancing around the mostly vacant weight room. He had forgotten that Ace was an RA at the same dorm as Perona.

"Yeah, he swims mostly," said Ace offhandedly, making his way over to the weight station beside Zoro's. He glanced through the window and perked up. "Ohhhh, look, there he is!"—He pounded hard on the glass and waved both hands over his head.—"HEY, SANJI!"

Zoro sat up straighter on his bench and looked down in time to see his student, the object of his obsession, walking across the tiled pool deck. Sanji absently waved up at the overlook, not even sparing a glance at them, as he made his way over to the lifeguard on duty—a friendly sophomore named Caimi.

"Man, I have never seen anyone get as distracted by a girl as that kid," said Ace, laughing to himself as he returned to his weights.

Zoro watched Sanji with rapt attention, his heart beating in his throat. The blond remained oblivious to his professor, his eyes practically heart-shaped as he flirted with Caimi. Zoro briefly wondered if Sanji actually intended to exercise or if he would spend his entire time wooing the lifeguard. Not that that would bother Zoro. Sanji's current angle afforded him a stunning view of that perfect eyebrow. Zoro remained frozen in place, transfixed by his student and the spiral until Sanji ended his conversation with Caimi (because she had to rotate positions with the next lifeguard) and dove neatly into the water. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Zoro turned to find Ace looking at him with a small grin on his face.

Zoro glowered at him. "What?"

"You know that he's a _student_ , right?" asked Ace. "And not just a student, but a freshman? He's still practically jailbait. Not to mention the fact that Sanji is almost definitely mostly straight."

"And?"

"I know that kind of look, Professor," pressed Ace, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Zoro scowled at Ace for a moment until what his was insinuating finally sank in.

"WHAT? I would never—He's my—His—The spiral—It's just—" Zoro stumbled over his words, incapable of stringing together a coherent thought in response to Ace's outrageous suggestion. "I would never!"

Ace's grin widened. "Uh huh, sure. Hey, if you ever want to join me for drinks at Level 5.5, you'd be more than welcome."

Zoro glared daggers at Ace, not at all appreciating the less than subtle invitation to the solitary and rather infamous gay bar just outside of Grand Line's campus. He didn't so much have a problem with the orientation of the patrons or the rather flamboyant owner—that was their business and had no bearing on more important attributes. Zoro's aversion had to do with how crowded the place would be. Level 5.5 was located on a corner of Impel Down Plaza; so named for the old jail house that towered over it. On any given night of the week, there was something going on down there, but the worst was Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights when the entire plaza and its surrounding bars and restaurants would be packed with drunken and misbehaving students. He had never been able to figure out why the locals had nicknamed the area the Calm Belt. Perhaps they had a strong sense of irony. Either way, just thinking about the chaos and disorder caused by the intoxicated club-goers was maddening and Zoro shuddered at the thought.

"I'll pass."

"Are you sure?" teased Ace, drawing out the end of his question in time with his last squat.

Zoro gave him a look that was toxic enough to kill, though Ace remained cheerful as ever.

"Well, the offer stands," said Ace, shrugging his bare freckled shoulders as he deposited his weights in the rack.

Zoro didn't bother with responding, choosing instead to begin the next segment of his work out: pushups. Normally, he did them behind the weight station, facing into the room. This time, however, he chose to overlook the pool. It was because he wanted a change in scenery and to avoid seeing the grin on Ace's face; definitely not because he wanted an unobstructed view of the student that had been avoiding him for the last four weeks.

He watched Sanji's progress as he counted each pushup. Zoro had to admit, the kid was a good swimmer. Every time he dipped down towards the floor, the pool would momentarily disappear behind the edge of the window. When he popped up again, Sanji would be halfway down the lane, moving at a much faster pace than the other early morning lap swimmers as he gracefully cut through the water.

Zoro simultaneously counted Sanji's laps as he tallied his pushups, unconsciously syncing his movements with the blond's. Eventually, Sanji's lap count caught up to his pushups or he had lost count of one of them and meshed the two or whatever, and Zoro realized that he had no idea of how much time had passed. He did notice that his arms burned a little from doing the same movement for too long and that Ace had disappeared from the weight station beside him. When he glanced up at one of the many clocks scattered around the gym, he found that nearly two hours had passed. Zoro frowned to himself, pulling his legs up so he could sit cross-legged. He rarely got distracted while exercising and never enough to lose count and track of time. He stared irritably down at Sanji—who was currently hoisting himself out of the pool—and tried his best to center himself for his post-workout meditation.

No use.

Now that Sanji was on the pool deck, Zoro could see the spiral again. It pulled at his vision, drawing him in even when he tried to close his eyes. Meditation was impossible with the jumble of numbers and equations running through his mind. Even with the relative distance between them, Zoro ran calculations based on visual estimations. The curve of Sanji's back as he stretched to grab his feet matched the spiral of his eyebrow, as did the bend of his fingers around his toes. Sanji was phenomenally flexible, his body and limbs bending and stretching in angles and ratios that repeated themselves and became all too consistent within Zoro's mind. It was only when his student got up and grabbed his towel, waving goodbye to Caimi before heading for the locker room, that Zoro realized he had been blatantly staring again.

He shook his head, frustrated with himself, and half-heartedly tried to meditate again before giving up a few minutes later. There would be no concentrating for him, not with Sanji and his spiral so close. Zoro had his dream within reach, he just knew it. It was strangely attached to his student, who at this very moment was in the locker rooms, completely oblivious to how important he was. If he could only convince Sanji of his miracle, of what a discovery he had made in him. Zoro was certain that if he could learn how such a thing had happened, that he would unlock the greatest mathematical mystery since Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Hell, he might even surpass Mihawk, who was currently considered the top mathematical mind in the world.

Just thinking about it sent a thrill of excitement running through Zoro's body. He was so close to it all, to achieving everything he had ever dreamed of, and the key lay in one of his students. A student who was in this same building. Zoro sat up a little straighter. At this very moment, Sanji could be in the locker room downstairs. This was his chance. This might be the day that he convinced Sanji of his miracle.

Zoro scrambled to his feet, forgetting his towel by the weight station in his haste to catch his student before he left. Luckily, the locker room that Zoro used and the one attached to the pool were one and the same, and Zoro managed to reach it in record time without getting turned around even once.

He arrived to find the locker room completely empty, the disappointment at missing his chance hitting him like a ton of bricks. Sanji must have already left. Zoro trudged dejectedly to his locker, only all too aware of the dark cloud hanging over his head. Today was going to be a bad day.

As he neared his locker, however, Zoro noticed something out of place. The locker right beside his stood wide open, revealing a worn blue backpack and a pair of goggles inside. But what really caught his attention was the pile of sopping wet swim trunks on the concrete ledge directly in front of his own locker. Chlorinated water oozed from the blue plaid material, collecting on the bench, running into his locker, and dripping onto the floor. Zoro wrinkled his nose. His clothes were probably wet and he was going to have to stand in someone else's puddle while he changed clothes. This was definitely going to be a bad day.

Just as he picked up the soaking swim gear—just who the hell wore two pairs of trunks at once, anyway?—Zoro heard one of the showers in the adjoining room turn on. He held the offending clothes with a vice-like grip as he headed for the showers. He might have resigned himself to having wet feet for the rest of the morning, but at least he could give the asshole a piece of his mind. Zoro continued to glare fiercely at the swim trunks in his hand as he rounded the corner into the tiled group shower. He could hear humming coming from beneath the spigot in the corner, but didn't look up until the first half of his reprimand had left his mouth.

"Oi, asshole! Don't go leaving your wet shit in front of other people's lockers. My stuff is soaked. And just what kind of moron wears two pairs of trunks..at…" _…oh._

A painfully familiar back faced him, the muscles rigid as their owner's arms and shoulders tensed, his hands tangled in soapy blond hair.

Zoro wanted to kick himself. How had he not recognized the blue shorts in his hands? He had only been staring at their owner for the last two hours. Of course, linear patterns had never held his interest, but that was no excuse.

His heart leapt into his throat, beating at double its healthy rate, as Sanji slowly turned to face him. The look on his student's face was one of shock and embarrassment, the white suds in his hair standing in sharp contrast to the angry red blush that colored his cheeks and ears. Sanji's hand immediately flew from his hair to awkwardly cover his groin, even though he was wearing a faded black speedo. Later, Zoro would wonder why the blond had felt the need to wear three layers to swim laps, but there in that moment he was completely occupied by another sight.

Two. There were two of them.

The hair that Sanji normally wore over his left eye was swept back, piled on top of his head and plastered in place by his shampoo, revealing the other side of his face and a second curly eyebrow. Zoro's breath hitched in his lungs. Not only was Sanji's other eyebrow curly, but its spiral was completely identical to its mate. He had thought that there might be another, but he had expected a mirror image; a spiral that was flipped and reversed, but this…this was so much more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Two." Zoro's mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "There…There are two of them."

"Of course there are two of them, you shitty creepy stalker professor!" snapped Sanji, one of his hands moving to more effectively cover himself below the waist so the other could clamp over his forehead, hiding his eyebrows from view. "They're my eyebrows! There are supposed to be two of them!"

Zoro felt his frustration flare as Sanji once again hid his miraculous eyebrows. Why did he have to do that? Did he know how important they were? How special he was?

"And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?" Sanji continued. "Did you follow me? Don't make me get campus police involved!"

"I didn't follow you," Zoro retorted, finding it oddly easier to fall back into his normal demeanor with the spirals hidden. "This gym is for students _and_ staff."

"Then why the shitty fuck do you have my stuff?!" yelled Sanji, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

"Because you left it in front of my stuff!" Zoro barked back, squeezing the shorts until water dripped from them to splash at his feet.

"Well, it's not my fault that you chose the locker right beside mine!"

"I was here first, you stupid entitled kid!"

"That locker was assigned to me, you stalker!"

"Asshole!"

"Bastard!"

"Moron!"

"Creeper!"

"Puny!"

Sanji visibly recoiled at the insult to his physique, briefly relinquishing his hold over his eyebrows before remembering himself and hiding them again.

"Shitty mosshead!"

Zoro glared darkly at his student. Part of him was impressed. Not many could deal with him when he was angry, let alone stand up to him and hold their ground. Sanji was doing both with ease, despite having one hand over his family jewels and the other over his eyebrows. Zoro would have commended him on it, if he weren't so angry.

"Hey, what's going on in here?" asked Ace, coming up to stand behind Zoro's shoulder. "I heard shouting. I everything okay? Sanji? Professor?"

"It's nothing," said Sanji, never breaking eye contact with Zoro. "The professor was just leaving."

Zoro scowled. So that's how this was going to go. Fine. Two could play this game, and Zoro had no intention of losing. He would convince Sanji of his miracle, one way or another.

"Yeah," Zoro grunted in return. He glanced at Sanji's forehead in hopes of seeing the spirals one last time before turning and shoving Sanji's swim trunks against Ace's bare chest with a wet splat. "Here."

He could feel both pairs of eyes on him as he stomped out of the shower and toward his locker. Hurriedly unlocking it, he bundled up his dampened clothes and shoved them into his gym bag. He would change in his office. Let Perona complain about the smell. He didn't care.

As he neared the door, he could still feel Sanji's tension lingering with the stunned silence in the steamy air. Zoro paused before leaving, unable to resist throwing one last taunt at his stubborn student. Zoro smirked.

"I'll see you in class… _curlybrow_."

...

"If it's such a problem, then why don't you report him?" asked Nami, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"It's nothing I can't handle," Sanji replied, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his friend's irritation.

He was trying his best to seem unfazed by Professor Roronoa's attention, but knew he was failing miserably. Even just talking about the man caused him to grouchily grind down on the nearly spent cigarette in his mouth. He had already smoked two before this one, and he and his friends had only been standing in line at their favorite dining hall for a little over five minutes.

Sanji huffed out a smoky breath. "He's just annoying, is all."

"It's worse than that," grumbled Usopp, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as some of the smoke wafted his way. "You've been smoking twice as much as you did at the beginning of the year. The whole room stinks!" He whined miserably. "I think I might be forming an allergy."

"And you've been sort of irritable ever since that thing at the gym," said Vivi quietly, her tone apologetic.

The disbelieving glare that Sanji had given Usopp softened as he turned toward Vivi. Had he really been that hard to be around? He didn't want his friends—especially two ladies as sweet and caring as Nami and Vivi—to suffer due to his own problems. They had all thought the whole thing was hilarious when it had first begun. It had seemed too ridiculous to be true. But now, Sanji was starting to wear thin. And if his friends' concern was anything to go by, it showed more than he would have liked.

"Look, I can handle it," Sanji tried to reassure them as the line began to move. He took one last drag of his abused cigarette and ground it into the sidewalk. "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

Sanji's question was met by three skeptical looks. They had been over this several times already. Usopp and Vivi were nearly convinced that the professor's behavior would escalate to fully blown stalking and that Sanji was going to end up in a ditch somewhere, while Nami seemed undecided as to whether he was being overly dramatic or too casual about the whole situation. Either way, they had beaten the topic to death, so this time when Sanji brushed it off, his friends were more than happy to move on.

Nami shrugged and began talking to Vivi about their shared anthropology class while Usopp busied himself with texting his mysterious girlfriend, whom none of them had yet met. Sanji tried his best to listen to Nami's story—something about unusual rain patterns in the Middle East—but his mind continually wandered back to his green-haired professor.

He still didn't understand what the guy's problem was. So he had curly eyebrows, so what? Sanji was pretty sure that he wasn't the only person in the world that had them, even though he didn't know anyone else that did. And even if he was the only one, that didn't make him some curiosity. He was a perfectly normal, if not slightly above average, nineteen-year-old and his eyebrows were quite stylish, thankyouverymuch. There was absolutely no reason for Professor Roronoa to be going on as if he were some sort of miraculous discovery.

And that brought Sanji to the problem of the professor himself. Creepy stalker tendencies aside, the man was interesting and unusual. Sanji usually found it easy to read people, he had his whole life. But with every close encounter, Professor Roronoa surprised him. Yeah, he was batshit insane, but he had an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

It was obvious that the professor loved math. His passion for the subject showed in every single class, even though the level of most of his students was far below him. No matter where he sat in the room, Sanji found himself drawn into Professor Roronoa's lecture despite the fact that he couldn't understand half of what he was saying. Sanji would end up leaning forward in his seat, his notes nearly forgotten, as he watched his professor teach. He couldn't quite understand his fascination. The only comparison that Sanji could think of was that watching Professor Roronoa talk about math was like watching Zeff cook. Professor Roronoa came alive in that lecture hall, sharing his craft with his students.

But then Professor Roronoa would find him and whatever spell had held Sanji entranced would be broken. It happened in every single class without fail. Sanji could have found a seat behind the tallest, widest student, and the professor would still spot him before the hour was up. He could always tell when he'd been found out. Professor Roronoa would make eye contact, pinning him in place with that singularly intense stare, and then a not-at-all subtle smirk would curl the left corner of his mouth. Every time, Sanji would tense up in his seat, nearly snapping the pencil in his hand as he glared down at his professor.

He could appreciate the man's passion, even admire it. Sanji just didn't want that passion to be about him…or his eyebrows. It was creepy and awkward. Sanji couldn't help but to curse his terrible luck. Why couldn't the professor have been a beautiful girl his age? Sanji would die a happy man if Nami or Vivi wanted to be with him half as badly as Professor Roronoa did. It just wasn't fair.

"Sanji?"

Speaking of lovely ladies.

"Yes, Nami, my dear?" asked Sanji, pushing any and all thoughts of Professor Roronoa to the back of his mind.

Nami smiled sweetly. "I seem to have forgotten my ID. Can you swipe me in?"

"It would be my pleasure, Nami, my swan!"

"Can you do it sometime today?" asked Nami, looking thoroughly unamused by Sanji's happy wriggling. "I'm hungry."

"Huh?" The hearts dissipated from Sanji's eyes long enough for him to realize that they were at the front of the line. Since when had he gotten so distracted thinking about a guy that he lost track of time. Seriously? He would have to see to that.

Nami, Vivi, and Usopp—along with the dining hall staff member by the door and the front half of the line—watched expectantly as Sanji dug his wallet out of his pocket and fished out his atrocious ID, swiping it twice through the reader. He would be down a meal for the week, but that was fine. He could always eat out one night or try one of the microwave recipes he'd been developing. Besides, anything for a lady.

"Thanks, Sanji," said Nami, giving him a brief hug that left him weak at the knees before hurrying off arm-in-arm with Vivi to find a table for four in the rapidly filling dining hall.

Sanji recovered from the hug as the girls disappeared from sight and quickly pocketed his ID before anyone could see it. He had not yet had a chance to get a new one, but not for a lack of trying. Every time he visited the office in the student center, it seemed to be closed. And the one time it hadn't been, the worker behind the desk had regretfully informed him that their printing system was down—though not before laughing over his current ID with every other person in the office. Shitty bastards.

Moving slightly to the side so as not to be trampled by more hungry students, Sanji leisurely scanned the dining hall, still undecided as to what he wanted to eat. Grand Line was a large university with some of the top sports teams in the country. As such, all of the dining courts were fully equipped to serve and pamper any student athlete and thoroughly fatten anyone that didn't spend several hours per day exercising. Sanji had even heard the odd rumor about the school pumping extra calories into the ingredients at the salad bar. He had his doubts about the validity of that particular rumor, but had chosen to exercise caution in the dining halls nonetheless.

After a small amount of deliberation, he finally settled on stir fry, which at least allowed him to choose his ingredients. Its preparation station was near the back of the dining hall and, quite luckily, the line was fairly short. Pizza was on the menu that evening, so most students, including Usopp, were waiting for their turn at the freshly prepared pies. Unfortunately for Sanji, all of the girls in the dining hall also seemed to want pizza, as he found himself standing behind a gaggle of what looked to be either computer science majors or electrical engineers, based on their pasty complexions and not-so-recently washed hair.

Sanji huffed irritably and shuffled back half a step so he was clear of the other students' very…unique odor. Hunching dejectedly over his try, Sanji scanned the full dining hall in search of fairer sights than the one directly in front of him.

It didn't take him too long to find a pretty girl. She was working at the soup and salad bar, laying pre-sliced tomatoes out on a tray. The girl looked bored with the menial task. Sanji immediately recognized the distant look in her eyes. To the casual observer, she was engrossed in her job, concentrating hard on the platter of vegetables, but Sanji knew that she was far away. It was during similar tasks at his old man's restaurant that Sanji had always revisited his favorite day dreams. Sometimes, he had imagined a beautiful woman falling for his charm and the two of them getting married and doing all of the things that his mom and Zeff had missed out on. But most of the time Sanji thought about his dream.

He wanted his own restaurant. Not a small but quality place in some mid-sized city like Zeff's, though. No way. What Sanji wanted was a restaurant in Paris. It would be top of the line, the kind of establishment that people would cross oceans to visit. He would serve the best cuisine anyone had ever tasted. Sanji wanted to introduce his future patrons to flavors they had never imagined possible. People had told him throughout his childhood that it was impossible. He had no way of knowing how his abilities stacked up against others, not to mention that the French probably wouldn't take kindly to some American coming in and stepping on their toes—even if he did speak French. But he didn't really care. Sanji knew it was possible and that was what mattered.

Back to the cute girl with the tomatoes. Her side was facing Sanji, giving him a perfect profile view, even if her figure was mostly hidden beneath her baggy uniform. It also meant that her back was facing the soup at the end of the bar and that she couldn't see the frat boy wannabe currently dumping an entire shaker of salt into the chicken and noodles.

Sanji's mouth dropped open as his mind registered what he was seeing. All of that soup, ruined. Well, not really, but according to the dining hall staff it would be. They would probably dump all of it. That thought alone made Sanji's stomach flip flop uncomfortably.

He couldn't let that happen.

Stir fry completely forgotten, Sanji abandoned his spot in line and hurried over to the salad bar. Coming to a stop in front of the giant pot of soup, he spared a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching before grabbing the spoon on his tray and dipping it in for a taste.

The salt overwhelmed his senses the moment the soup hit his tongue. Sanji wrinkled his nose at it and set the spoon aside to grab a dinner roll from a nearby basket. He chewed slowly, cleansing his palate of the salt as he glanced around once again. There still wasn't anyone watching. The frat boy that had tainted the soup was flirting with the girl behind the salad bar, and—much to Sanji's disappointment—she was acting genuinely interested. But, it did mean that he had a chance to fix the soup without being caught.

With one last look around, Sanji stepped behind the bar, going immediately to a service sink and washing his hands. Sanji felt completely at home in the industrial kitchen setting and easily located the necessary tools and ingredients to fix the soup. He periodically taste tested it as he worked, ensuring that he was going in the right direction and not adding too much of any one spice. In no time, he tasted it and was satisfied that the soup had been saved. Stepping back, he couldn't help the smile that split his face. He was an amazing cook. Anyone that thought differently just hadn't been introduced to his cooking yet.

He victoriously batted his hands together, his eyes still trained on the masterpiece that he had just made of the dining hall soup as he made his way back to the appropriate side of the serving line. Sanji didn't see the body blocking his path until he'd walked into it, the force sending him stumbling backwards.

"And just vhat do you think you're doing back there, Candy Boy?" asked an oddly musical voice.

Sanji blinked dumbly, stunned by the impact and the very brightly dressed, very tall person standing before him. As his gaze travelled upwards, he noted well manicured hands placed on sumptuous hips, a bit of a belly, and a neckline that plunged lower than was probably school appropriate. A rather expensive looking set of pearls briefly held his attention, before he finally focused on a face that was caked in what appeared to be professionally applied stage makeup. Recognition dawned almost immediately in Sanji's mind. He had never met Professor Ivankov, the head of the Culinary School, but he had heard of him. Better make a good first impression.

"Uh, um…I—I was, um…" _Perfect. Well done. Good job. You win all the awards._

Professor Ivankov eyed him skeptically from beneath a set of heavy false eyelashes, his painted lips quirked in one corner. "You are blushing, Candy Boy. Are you perhaps stunned by my beauty?"

Sanji could only continue to gape, his mind randomly flashing to snippets of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and images of himself dressed in a corset and heels in the role of a terrified Brad Majors. The idea felt hauntingly and uncomfortably familiar. Maybe that had happened in another life.

"Vere you playing vith the soup?" continued the professor, crowding Sanji back into the kitchen. "Vhat did you do to it, little boy? Add laxatives? Or alcohol? You youngsters and your pranks. You have no respect for the sanctity of food."

"Excuse me?" growled Sanji, his awkwardness quickly banished by rage. "I was fixing it, you wannabe drag queen. It probably tastes better now than it did before that shitty frat boy poured salt in it!"

The professor seemed momentarily stunned by Sanji's outburst and then a slow smile curled at his lips. "Is that so, Candy Boy? Ve'll just have to see about that."

Without a word, Professor Ivankov snatched the spoon from Sanji's abandoned tray and dipped it into the simmering pot. Sanji found himself slightly impressed at the professor's poker face as he watched him smack his brightly colored lips together. Most people became weak at the knees when they tasted his cooking, their genuine surprise and joy impossible to hide. But Professor Ivankov gave no reaction, simply swirling the soup around his mouth and swallowing thoughtfully. There was awkward silence between them for a moment, broken only by the ambient noise of the other students in the dining hall and Sanji's heart pounding in his ears.

"This is…" said Professor Ivankov, putting the spoon back onto Sanji's tray. He quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and turned back to Sanji. "This is quite good. A little rudimentary, but certainly an improvement on the dining hall's recipe."

Sanji bit back the need to gripe about the subtle insult. His soup was better than rudimentary, even if the professor didn't want to admit it. But Sanji was used to compliments laced with critique. Zeff had raised him on it. Well, that and the odd swift kick to the butt.

"Um, thanks," said Sanji, trying his best to edge past the professor to the correct side of the serving line. No use.

"I like you, Candy Boy. Tell me, vhat school are you in?"

"Culinary Arts."

"I hoped you would say that!" exclaimed Professor Ivankov, clapping a manicured hand on Sanji's shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "I vant to see you in my office tomorrow. Come at vone o'clock. Ve vill discuss you coming to vork in the kitchen at Navarone."

Sanji's eyes widened slightly. Navarone Café was the Culinary School's restaurant on campus. It was run entirely by Professor Ivankov and the only students who could get jobs there were upperclassman in the Culinary Arts Program. For the professor to offer him a job there as a freshman was unheard of. Sanji gulped and nodded silently, afraid to open his mouth in case something else embarrassing and ineloquent should slip out.

Professor Ivankov grinned widely and gave Sanji's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Very good. I vill see you then."

And then he turned and left. It was only when he had disappeared into the crowded dining hall that Sanji realized the professor had been wearing six inch stacked heels…and that his mouth was hanging open. Sanji shook his head clear of shock and confusion and hurried around the serving counter to snatch up his tray, a blush coloring his cheeks when he realized that the cute dining hall employee was watching with an odd look on her face. He grabbed a drink from the soda fountain and found his friends, slipping into the booth beside Usopp in a daze. None of them commented on the fact that he had forgotten to pick up anything to eat; they were too busy discussing Fall Break plans.

Sanji sipped at his drink in a daze. Either he was wildly inexperienced, or that was the strangest job interview he had ever had.

...

Fall Break found Grand Line University's campus blissfully quiet. It wasn't as barren as it would be during the Thanksgiving weekend or over winter break, but many students had gone home for the extended weekend, leaving only those who had too far to travel or had too much homework behind.

The nearly vacant campus meant that Zoro could throw all of his concentration into his work without having to worry about being interrupted by students or staff. Even Perona had left, gone to a mathematics conference on the east coast. Zoro had his office—and most of the Mihawk math building—to himself. He had locked himself away in his office following his last class on Wednesday with only several chalkboards, his favorite math texts, and a Sunny Go! bag full of meat and alcohol (courtesy of Luffy) to keep him company. He had worked tirelessly through the night and well into the following morning, only stopping when he could no longer keep his eyes open. After a short nap on the worn leather sofa by his office door, Zoro had gotten up, found a mistake, erased two and a half chalkboards worth of work, and started anew. This cycle repeated itself through the afternoon, evening, and night. By Friday morning, Zoro was down to his last chalkboard and still hadn't found a solution to the mystery of his student's eyebrow.

Zoro skipped lunch and his standard afternoon nap as he poured over his work, scoured his reference texts, and moved from chalkboard to paper. As the sun began to set on his second day of labor, Zoro found himself thoroughly frustrated and completely out of provisions, even sake. But there was never enough sake.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose and blinked blearily at one of his chalkboards, the spiraling Fibonacci diagram beginning to blend into the green surface. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and it seemed that no amount of staring and erasing and rewriting would help him to solve this problem. Zoro sighed. He needed some air. His office had grown stale, filled with dusty worn-out thoughts. Maybe he could go to the gym. Zoro had avoided it since his run-in with Sanji. Not because he was afraid, but because he needed time to plan. His accidental meetings with his student always left him dumbfounded and speechless, in no state to convince the standoffish teen of his miracle. But Zoro doubted that Sanji would be on campus during the long weekend. Or, if he was, he wouldn't spend it at the gym. And exercise would almost certainly help Zoro to unstick the cogs in his mind.

With his mind made up, Zoro made for the door, having to carefully pick his way around stacks of books and papers. He grabbed his favorite—and nearly threadbare—green hoodie from the back of the couch, pulling it on as he elbowed open his door. Zoro patted down his pockets as he made his way down the hall. He had actually remembered to lock his office and quickly located his keys and his wallet in the deep pocket in his sweater. The professor didn't feel the need to carry anything else. He was already wearing sweatpants and without Perona to nag at him about the smell, he wouldn't have to worry about changing clothes after his workout. His faculty ID would get him into any building and his keys gained him access to his office. And money wouldn't be an issue since there was nothing open at this hour other than the crowded bars outside of campus.

The cool late-October air hit him like an invigorating slap to the face the moment he exited the Mihawk building, prompting him to pull his hood up. The professor walked with his head down, lost in thought. Zoro had the route to Long Ring Long memorized by this point. He could even find it on the darkened campus. He didn't need to pay too close attention to where he was going. Or he normally wouldn't, except that the university had decided to start yet another construction project.

Zoro glared up at the tall chain link fence that blocked his path. He considered climbing it, but university security had lined the top with razor wire—probably to keep drunken students out and away from the heavy machinery within. Perona had lectured him many times about what to do when his route had unexpectedly changed. He was supposed to follow the fence around until he was in a familiar area again and then continue on his original path. It was a simple enough concept. Zoro didn't know why she had to be such a pain about it.

He let his fingertips run along the cold chain link as he followed the fence line in the dimly lit campus. The smooth metal felt oddly soothing against his skin and Zoro briefly wondered if he had had some sort of connection to it in a past life before dismissing the thought in favor of counting the patterns created by the raised ridges of the fence. So few people understood how deeply math permeated the world, both in nature and civilization. It was all at once maddening and calming for Zoro. The numbers centered him, yet their complexities wore away at his sanity. He was the best in the world at what he did…or, he was close. Only the great European mathematician Dracule Mihawk bested him, but that wouldn't last for long. And then Zoro would fulfill that promise made all those years ago. He would prove once and for all that he was the smartest, the most analytical. He was a true master of the numbers.

Zoro only needed to unlock the mystery behind Sanji's eyebrow and he would have it all.

Suddenly, the smooth metal of the chain link gave way to rough, weather worn brick, making Zoro stop in his tracks. The construction fencing had ended, but it hadn't led him around to pick up his route to the gym. Instead, he stood staring into a darkened alleyway that dead ended into another brick wall thanks to the university building too many structures too closely together. Zoro frowned and turned away, only to realize that absolutely nothing looked familiar. Damned confusing campus.

He momentarily considered following the fence back to where he had started, but given how horribly it had worked this time, Zoro imagined that he would only end up that much more lost. He would have to tell Perona that her instructions had failed him. Again.

Zoro stood and thought for a moment. There had to be some other way to figure out which direction to go. The wind had been blowing against him when he'd left his building, so if he faced into it as he walked, he would be travelling parallel to his original path and would eventually end up at the gym. Yes, that made sense.

He turned in a slow circle as he tried to decide where the wind was coming from. It blew in from outside of the alleyway and buffeted against the brick walls, hitting him from all directions. He would have to get out into the open in order to get a good feel for it. After several more minutes of walking, Zoro found himself no closer to deciphering his whereabouts, let alone to his destination. He had somehow managed to walk into a narrow corridor, trapped in a veritable labyrinth of backstreets and alleyways. As he scowled up at the tall crumbling face of another seemingly nameless brick building, Zoro finally felt a strong gust of wind hit his right cheek.

Zoro all but ran through the open-ended alley, finding a large square with a fountain on the other side. The professor immediately recognized where he was. This was another one of his memorized locations on campus, though he couldn't quite understand how he had made it here, since the last hour of his walk had been nothing like the route he normally took to get to it.

The fountain was a large heart and cupid adorned monstrosity. Robin had once explained to him that it was sculpted in the Rococo style, whatever that meant. On the other side of it was the Culinary Arts building with its Navarone Café and beside him was the building where Robin taught most of her classes. Zoro's stomach growled irritably as he stared up at the fountain in frustration. He was really hungry and thirsty, but the building was completely dark and the campus was empty of anyone that might help him. He peered into the rapidly darkening campus, still intent upon finding his way to the gym…as if he would see it appear from behind one of the buildings. Just past the fountain and off in the distance, Zoro spotted a small flickering light. It looked like firelight—which was weird—but light meant people and people meant directions.

Zoro walked resolutely toward it, his pace quickening in anticipation as he neared it. Soon, the buildings became more sparse and then disappeared, replaced by trees and withering flower beds. This part of campus was even more unfamiliar to him and Zoro was just beginning to consider turning back when he heard voices and laughter.

He had stumbled upon what appeared to be a small park on the outskirts of Grand Line's campus. A wide field stretched before him, the grass catching the light of the rising moon. Off to his side was a modest playground with a handful of picnic tables surrounding the mulch-filled pit. A group of four students had lit a fire in one of the rudimentary barbecues and laid out a spread of food on the accompanying picnic table. They looked and sounded to be celebrating something. Aside from the half-empty dishes, wrappers, and trash, there was a collection of used beer bottles piled beside the table. Three of them, two girls and a boy, were laughing loudly at the antics of another boy, who was gesturing wildly as he told some story. None of them noticed Zoro until he stepped into the warm circle of light.

The first to see Zoro was a girl with blue hair. Her eyebrows rose and her laughter stopped as her mouth fell slightly open, prompting the other girl to look up as well. Then the boy who had been talking stopped mid-sentence, a look of exaggerated shock crossing his longnosed face when he saw the professor. The only one that hadn't yet turned to see him was the boy with painfully familiar blond hair. Zoro's stomach fell down to somewhere near his shoes.

"Nami? Vivi? What is it?" asked the blond, his speech a little slurred. "Is someone there? Is it a lovely lady? Is she—oh…"

The slightly drunken blush that already colored Sanji's cheeks darkened significantly when he saw his professor. His hand immediately flew to his forehead, hiding his spiral from view before Zoro could see it.

"What d'you want, shitty professor?" growled Sanji.

Zoro gaped at him for a moment, before higher brain functions kicked in and he was able to speak again. "I was looking for the gym."

"Seriously?" said the red-haired girl with a derisive snort. "That's on the other end of campus."

"Oh." Zoro furrowed his brow. Well, that didn't make sense. All four students were watching him skeptically. "What?"

"Why're you still here?" asked Sanji. "We were having a good time. You should leave."

"Don't be rude, Sanji!" said the blue-haired girl, earning an even brighter blush and a mumbled apology. "Are you hungry, Mister…?"

"Oh, uh, Roronoa," offered Zoro. He saw the faces of both girls fall. Apparently they had heard his name before. "And I'm not—"

Zoro's stomach growled.

Sanji groaned and ran the hand that had been over his eyebrows down his face. When he spoke, he sounded suddenly exhausted and slightly dejected. "Sit, Professor. Eat something. There's plenty here."

All present stared at the blond with shock. He deadpanned at them.

"What? I can't let him go hungry." Sanji sighed. "Just don't sit with Nami and Vivi, and don't sit next to me."

"B-But, Sanjiiiiiii," whined the longnosed boy, quickly glancing between his friend and Zoro. "That…that means…"

"Just do it, Usopp," ordered Sanji.

The other boy, Usopp, seemed to deflate a little and looked up at Zoro balefully, as if pleading for him to just turn and leave, before sighing and scooting over so he was seated closer to Sanji. Zoro could only continue to stare in disbelieving shock. Was he being invited to eat with them? And by the student had had been pursuing so vigorously, no less?

"Take much longer and I'll change my mind," said Sanji with a dark glare.

Zoro swallowed thickly—why did his mouth always manage to get so dry around Sanji?—and sat down beside Usopp, who was trembling and beginning to turn red in the face. Meanwhile, the two girls were watching him with open curiosity and Sanji was resolutely ignoring him as he piled food onto a paper plate. The blue-haired girl looked nervous and a little concerned. Her redheaded friend, however, was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Zoro fidget uncomfortably. She was like Robin. She could see everything right away.

"In case you hadn't guessed, I'm Nami," she said, a clever smile curling at her lips. "And this is Vivi. You've probably seen Usopp before. He's in your class with Sanji. Would you like a beer?"

"Uh, sure." Zoro hazarded a glance at the nervous longnose as Nami handed him a chilled beer bottle. He only vaguely recognized Usopp's face, and then only because he always sat beside Sanji. He didn't bother to check the label before twisting off the cap. Booze was booze. He was just happy for the free drink. "So, what are you celebrating?"

"Sanji got a job!" Vivi explained with a bright smile.

"Oh." Zoro didn't quite know what to say. He hadn't really thought about his student's need to work. He honestly hadn't considered much about the boy beyond his miraculous eyebrow and how stubborn he was. Before he could say anything else, Sanji reached past Usopp to drop a fully laden plate in front of him with a gruff order to eat.

Zoro stared at the plate in awe. The poor wax coated paper could barely contain the food that had been piled upon it. There were a couple of barbecued chicken legs, a small steak medallion wrapped in bacon, fire roasted corn, and grilled asparagus. All of it smelled amazing. And when he began to eat, Zoro discovered that it tasted even better. He cleared his plate within minutes—a habit formed from eating out with Luffy—only to find it quickly refilled.

"Which restaurant is this from?" he asked between bites. He would have to take Luffy. Hopefully the place wasn't too expensive. Maybe they even had an all-you-can-eat bar.

A cocksure grin spread across Sanji's face and he leaned heavily on the table to look past Usopp. The blond's eyes were drooping a little dopily and his blush had spread to his ears. His elbow nudged at a couple of empty bottles that fell to the ground in a succession of dull thuds.

"M'glad you like it," said Sanji. "You better. Cuz I made it."

"That's the job he got," chimed in Vivi. "He's a cook! And a really good one."

"Aaaaawwwwwwwwww, thanks, Vivi. You're—You're too kind," cooed Sanji, slumping slightly over the table.

Zoro turned back to the blond. Sanji had really incredible talent. Zoro's eye flicked to the spiral, which was clearly visible. Maybe it was a part of his miracle. The spiral gave Sanji power, as it did all things in the universe. The professor wondered what other hidden talents his student possessed.

"I HAVEN'T BEEN DRINKING UNDERAGE! NOT ONE DROP!" cried Usopp, going suddenly rigid between them.

The rest of them all turned to the longnose with looks of mixed surprise and incredulity on their faces.

"It's a little late for that now," said Nami with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Do you honestly think Professor Roronoa cares if he's drinking with us? Besides, he barely looks old enough to drink, himself."

"I'm twenty-five."

The words slipped out before Zoro had a chance to stop them. He wasn't normally comfortable enough with strangers, especially students, to tell them anything personal. The beer wasn't that strong, so why?

"Really?" asked Vivi, looking genuinely curious. "That's really young for a professor. How long have you been teaching here?"

"Six years."

There went those sneaky words again. Zoro's statement was met by simultaneous long, low whistles from his students.

"So, what are you, a genius or something?" asked Nami.

"Yes."

Sanji rolled his eyes and muttered, "More like crazy."

Nami shot Sanji a furtive glare and then suddenly Zoro found himself under a rapid-fire attack of questions. He answered each one freely, much to his surprise. As they continued to drink their rather sizeable supply of beer and eat Sanji's delicious food, Zoro told them about his work and his dream. He couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up inside him when Vivi asked him about the Fibonacci Sequence and why the spiral was so important. Nor did Zoro miss how intently Sanji watched him during his story.

All too soon, the beer ran dry and the food was diminished to crumbs. Usopp was laid across the table with his head cradled in his arms, snoring drunkenly into the aged wood. Nami had held her alcohol surprisingly well, given her small stature, but was leaning heavily against Vivi for support. Only Sanji really still seemed to be listening to what Zoro was saying, his expression not nearly as guarded as it was when he was sober.

"Maybe we should head back," suggested Vivi. She was the only one that hadn't been drinking, but she looked dead tired. "It's really late. And it's getting kind of cold."

"You're right," mumbled Nami, perking up only slightly. "Where're you going, Professor?"

Zoro scrubbed tiredly at his face with his hands. He needed to get back to work, but he wasn't entirely sure if he could find his way back to his office. "The Mihawk building."

"Do you need someone to go with you?" asked Vivi. "You were lost before, right?"

"I was not!" Zoro pointed a finger past the playground, in the direction where his back would be facing the wind. He was well aware that he had been lost, but admitting it in front of students was out of the question. "It's easy; I need to go that way."

"Admit it, you were lost, shitty marimo professor," smirked Sanji.

"I was not!"

"You were too!"

"Was not!"

"You moron, you're not even point—pointing in the right direction!" Sanji hiccupped. "I'm drunk, and I know the way better than…than you!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Why don't you prove it?!" yelled Zoro.

"Maybe I will!"

"That's a great idea!" said Nami, perking up beside Vivi.

"What?" asked Zoro and Sanji in perfect unison, only to glare at each other.

Nami rolled her eyes. "Sanji, you should walk Professor Roronoa back to his office so he doesn't get lost."

"But Namiiiiiiiiiiii," Sanji pleaded. He moved to complain some more, but stopped when Nami gave him a no nonsense look. He sighed. "Fine. Come on, professor."

Zoro watched in shock as the blond stood, wobbling slightly, and began to walk to the edge of the park. He hesitated, caught between his eagerness to get to know his student better and his own stubborn pride. Sanji continued to walk, not seeming to care if his professor followed or not. Finally, Zoro's need to learn more about Sanji and his spiral got the better of him and he followed him into the night.

...

Sanji's head was throbbing, though it didn't really feel like a hangover, which was weird. He didn't drink often, but when he did, he always got drunk really quickly and woke up with the worst of hangovers known to mankind. No, this time his headache originated from a sore spot on the back of his head, radiating out to touch at his neck and sting at the back of his eyes.

Had he fallen?

Maybe. He couldn't remember. Whatever had happened, though, the rest of him was comfortable now. Sanji felt so warm and cozy. He could feel that he was only in his boxers, but there was a soft heavy blanket draped over him. It trapped the warmth against him, his own body heat amplified that that of another body beneath him.

Sanji smiled and snuggled more closely to the soft, warm flesh. Nami or Vivi must have invited him back to their room last night. He couldn't believe his wonderful luck. He'd gotten a job in the best kitchen on campus, gotten to cook for his friends, and now was awaking to discover that he had been taken home by one of his beautiful lady-friends. What more could he ask for?

His hand was draped over what he could only imagine was a breast. It was so soft and, surprisingly, much more firm than he had thought a breast would be. Sanji ran his palm over it, soaking in the warmth, stopping when his fingers came in contact with a pert nipple. They were both topless, so maybe they had really enjoyed each other's company over night. Sanji elatedly began to wonder if maybe he would have a girlfriend after this. That would be awesome.

He began to rub at the little nub, curious as to what kind of response he would draw. There was nothing but a contented sigh and a slight shifting of the body beneath him. Sanji became vaguely aware that his spine was pressed against what felt like the back of a couch and that whoever he was with was a little bigger than he had thought Nami or Vivi would feel like, but his mind was otherwise occupied with that lovely little nipple. He rubbed at it again, a little harder this time, and again received a sigh in return. Sanji grinned, his eyes still closed, and decided to up the ante. He ran his fingers over it and then pinched it playfully.

There was a loud, deep snore and Sanji's eyes snapped open.

His vision was blurred for a moment, so all he saw was an expanse of tanned skin. As he slowly peeled his cheek from the warm flesh that had cradled it, his foggy mind began to put two and two together. This wasn't Nami. And it wasn't Vivi. Sanji swallowed thickly, panic rising from his stomach and making him nauseous.

It was Professor Roronoa. He was lying half-naked on top of Professor fucking Roronoa.

Sanji glanced around what he now realized was the man's office, though it was significantly messier than it had been the last time. There were papers and books strewn across the floor and so many chalkboards crowded the small room that it felt claustrophobic. Sanji looked back down at his professor. The man was still asleep, apparently not bothered in the least by his student's molesting.

Okay, so maybe nothing had happened. Maybe he was safe. Maybe he could escape.

Sanji slowly began to climb over Professor Roronoa, trying his best not to wake him. He hoped that he could get dressed and get away before the man awoke and forget that whatever had happened, had happened. He could see his clothes in a pile under one of the chalkboards and subconsciously reached for them as he moved to climb off of the couch. The action caused him to over balance and he tumbled onto the floor.

He somehow managed to twist himself so he landed onto his side, thunking his elbow on the linoleum tile. Sanji swore under his breath, worried that he'd woken the other man, only to hear the professor snore again. With a sigh of relief, Sanji began to get up, only to stop when pain suddenly shot up his back. Sanji began to shake. His entire backside was throbbing as painfully as his head.

Just what the hell had happened last night?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% pleased with this chapter. I may edit it...maybe.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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